


An Eye For An Eye

by JoansGlove



Series: Death Is Not The End [1]
Category: Wentworth (TV)
Genre: F/F
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-10-30
Updated: 2020-10-30
Packaged: 2021-03-08 18:14:34
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,215
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27281020
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/JoansGlove/pseuds/JoansGlove
Summary: Some people are just meant to be together
Relationships: Joan Ferguson/Brenda Murphy
Series: Death Is Not The End [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1991890
Comments: 4
Kudos: 18
Collections: Spooky Tales From Wentworth





	An Eye For An Eye

My Joanie’s watching Vera's front door again. She’s keeping vigil over the place where she saw me murdered. I know she feels guilty. Responsible. She stupidly thinks she sent me to my death and she’s punishing herself for it, for failing to keep me safe. I mean, just look at that hut of hers she hides away in; she could do much better for herself – god knows she can afford better – but she’s denying herself any scrap of comfort, and I reckon if they still made hair shirts that she’d wear two, just to be on the safe side. It’s so bloody typical of her to be thinking like this but she shouldn’t and it kills me to see her like it. Kills me… - Get it? Yeah, but no, it really does – it’s like a knife in the guts. She couldn’t have known that walking wank stain Channing was gonna tip up and start shooting. That was all Vera's fucking fault.

She’s grieving hard for me but I’m suffering just as bad – but different. At least she got a clean break; now she gets to remember me in the best ways, but me? You wouldn’t think you’d keep on feeling after you die, would you, but you do – and there’s no getting away from it. She keeps our love in a locket around her neck and she takes me with her wherever she goes, even if she doesn’t know it, so I had no choice but to watch her disintegrate. I had to stand by and see how it all came crashing down around her and I couldn’t do a damn thing – couldn’t hold her to stop her tears, couldn’t comfort her as she raged, couldn’t even visit her in her dreams. I’ve never been so lonely.

Now Joan came as a total surprise to me; never really been a fan of the older woman but, you know, I’m not made of wood. I think she was a bit shocked to find she liked me too. Everyone else was shit scared of her but not me. We just sort of got on, you know? Got to know her a bit when she was Governor, got to know her better when she was on remand. Got to know her a _whole_ lot better after she escaped… I got to see the woman she really is as I slowly unbuckled that armour she used to wear. And so what if she sometimes dances on the dark side? What does that matter? I’m not appalled by the stories like everyone says I should be. She did what she had to do, still does. We all do. She just does it bigger. And let’s face it, whatever she does, she does it with style. That woman takes my breath away.

It had been a bit of a game at the start, fucking with Vera's head (gloves on her pillow was my idea by the way), you know, just something to get us out of the house of an evening. But it was a real stroke of luck, Jackson taking those other two arseholes back to her ‘grave’. And after that it was only too easy to squeeze them for half of a small fortune. Those first texts to Vera had us pissing ourselves as she freaked out. And then when we realised that we had her on the hook it all changed and it was looking like we had a real chance to make the bastards pay. Oh, we had such plans, me and her. That money was going to set us up, get us away from here. Brazil was sounding good. We even started learning Portuguese. All we were really waiting for was Joan's – sorry, Kath’s – new documents to come through, get us a pair of passports and then we were gonna be out of here, happy and free and together.

But neither love nor revenge stopped her nightmares. She’d still fight her way out of bed, terrified, haunted, gasping for air... And now she has new ones to rip her from her sleep and I can’t soothe her any more like I used to. Can’t turn on the light and hug the shit out of her, can’t rock away her fears, her bad memories. Like I say, I can only watch and fret and hate Vera all the more. And that armour of hers is back on and strapped up so tightly she can hardly breathe.

I’m watching her self-soothe. Pulling on a strand of silvered hair at her temple. Twisting it round and round so it’s like a satin rope. She’s so much greyer now but then they reckon shock’ll do that to you. I don’t care though, she’s as beautiful as ever. She always will be. I sit down beside her and light up. What? You think ghosts don’t get to keep their vices? Guess again. “Oh, Joan, what are we going to do with you, eh?” I ask her.

“I don’t know,” she replies hoarsely (her voice is rusty from not speaking). ”And blow that smoke elsewhere.”

Fuck me, she can hear me! When the fuck did that happen? I touch the left side of my head – the last thing Joan needs to see right now is my ventilated brain isn’t it, so I’m relieved to find it all as it was when we left the house that night. Being dead is weird. Being a ghost is even weirder. When I look at my hand I see it like I always did – although I can’t actually touch anything – but if I wave it around in front of a mirror then hey presto I’m your classic see-through, carry your head under your arm ghost. What’s really weird though is my _Cause Of Death_ – when I’m just hanging out then I look like I always have (by that I mean it’s like it never happened) but if I’m angry or upset it flares up and I’m left looking like chopped liver. I ask her if she can see me. I need to know.

Her head turns, bruised looking eyes finding mine, and she nods once. There’s a crinkle of happiness at the corners of those soulful eyes but mostly all I can see is pain. “I was wondering when you’d show up.” She looks at Vera's front porch again and grips the locket through her daggy jumper. “Didn’t you know, it’s a thing of mine, seeing dead people.” Her face is so sad and bitter that I want to cry. “Never guessed I was psychic, did you?”

Fuck this is depressing! I’m not having this so I make out like nothing’s happened. “Psychic, psychotic, take your pick,” I say casually, knowing she’ll rise to the bait. She snorts and shakes her head.

“Bitch,” she says lovingly and she swings her heavy head to look at me properly. Her smile makes her look like her old self.

“Let’s get out of here, eh?”

“Not yet, I’m thinking.”

“Oh yeah, what about?”

“She’s taken away my most treasured possession.” She looks at me and I know it’s me she means. “So I’m going to take away hers. Didn’t you know?” she says, left eyebrow arching the way that it does when she has an evil plan, “Vera's pregnant.”


End file.
